


The Long Life of an Old North-Germanic

by A_Random_Dane



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Critical of Holy Roman Empire, Denmark is a girl, Gen, Hostile to Holstein-Gottorp, Inspired by more fics than I care to list, National family trees are complicated, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, There used to be more Nordics, You have been warned!, and I needed to stop the trauma-train, because Denmark in WW2 is done to death, because Mor Danmark!, becomes alternate history for the last 200 years, denmark is old, to be old in Hetalia is to suffer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_Dane/pseuds/A_Random_Dane
Summary: Nations have long lives, by human standards. But some nations are much older than others. China is the oldest still living, having existed in some form for near 4,000 years. But China has also spent nearly half his life in various comas. So who then, has experienced the longest life? The answer would be suprising to many.Mette, born “Métza”, has lived a long life. Long and full of suffering and loss. So much so that it is a miracle, she can even smile genuinely anymore. Much less be as carefree as she acts. How much of it is truly genuine? For deep down, she still suffers, under the weight of loss, and the secrets she carry. Secrets, both hers and others'. And the world is less for her pain.The Ancients, all those who knew her, will not bear her suffering any longer. It is time for the nations of the world to learn the full story, of she among them who has experienced the most. Through learning her story, the nations might heal their friend. Through learning of her life, they might heal and strengthen the bonds between them.Though it will be painful, the Ancients agree. The nations of the World must know, how Métza Þeudiskazduhter became Mette Køhler.
Relationships: America & Denmark & Prussia (Hetalia), Denmark & Iceland (Hetalia), Denmark & Norway (Hetalia), Denmark & Rome (Hetalia), Denmark & Russia (Hetalia), Denmark & Scandinavia (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Introduction, F*ck mit liv!

Mette Køhler was walking down one of the streets of a Copenhagen suburb. Specifically, she was walking down the street, were her home was. To give some context to this; She had just come home from the latest World Meeting, this one being as fruitless as most, and she had asked the Taxi-driver to drop her off at the end of the street. Because she needed to stretch her legs, and because she needed to think. Or rather, she wanted to think.

The easiest way to do that, was while walking in the fresh air. Lest the memories overwhelm her. Well that was the healthy way to avoid unwanted memories. The other way would be to drown them in alcohol, but that wasn't exactly conductive to thinking.

‘The anniversary of Lise's liberation is coming around, wonder what I should get her? Definately not a cake.’ While not exactly a faux pas, it would definately be unnecessary.   
She wondered who would be invited as well. Gilbert was a given, that man would never pass an opportunity to celebrate. Not even something like this. Roderic never really cared about any of it. Nor did Berwald, and that kind off stung. Alfred and Matthew might come, if they found the time. Emil better be there, but Lukas would only come if he actually remembered. Tino was too nice not to come. Oskar, Hjørdis, Vilhelm, and Eira would never miss their sister's celebration. Ludwig? He would most certainly make up some excuse, as to why he couldn't come. That poor boy would never admit to still be carrying a grudge.

That last one also kind off stung.

On second thought, Mette could really use a drink, the memories were already trickling in. And Mette remembered that there was a reason, that she usually didn't think through things. She could already tell what the rest her day was going to be. Get home, cry over the past, wipe away the tears, and then go out and get so drunk that she ‘forgets’ what she cried over. ‘Tomorrow, I will hopefully be back to normal.’ Wouldn't do for “Det super seje Kongerige Danmark!” to ever be depressed.

Thankfully, she knew of a bar, whose bartender knew her secrets. ‘Also wouldn't do for some random bar-goers to wonder, why some strange drunkard is muttering in different languages.’  
She truly needed that she felt, as she tried to force down the first choking sobs. To get more drunk than she would ever dare to, in the presence of friends or family. Even if Oskar would must certainly be disappointed, if he discovered that she had tried to drown her sorrows again.

It wasn't that she was an angry drunk. In fact, she got quite cheerful when slightly tipsy. But sometimes, she just needed to drink so much that she forgot the last few centuries. That she - at least temporarily - forgot how she became Mette Køhler.

——————

Unfortunately - or fortunately - fate had different plans. As Mette so rudely discovered, when she tried to enter her house. The key went in, and the door unlocked and opened, as usual. The hall was just the way she left it. Of course, she knew that the government dispatched officers to look after it, whenever she was absent for longer than a day.

But as she tried to step through the door, the ground suddenly seemed to disappear under her foot. Shocked, she lost her balance and fell forwards, through the floor. 

Words could not describe what she felt. First off, she felt shock and panic. But what she physically felt? She felt like she was falling, floating, and flying, all at once. She felt weightlessl and she felt like she weighed more than the entire world. She felt like she was in a vacumn, but also underwater. In other words; it all felt weird and unpleasant.

The void she fell through was black, but soon it started lightening. Turning first dark grey, then light grey. Eventually, all the darkness was replaced by a brilliant white light. And as gravity suddenly seemed to return to normal, Mette finally regained her words.

Though the words she spoke, in her panic, where not in danish. Nor were they in any other living language for that matter.

——————

The Nations of the World were rather confused. One moment, they had all either just come home, or were heading home from the last World Meeting. The next moment, they found themselves transported here, by fairly uncomfortable means. Soon they discovered that most of them were here. All of the american, most of the asian, a few of the african, and all but one of the european nations were there.

Naturally, even as small groups went and explored the strange theater/hotel they were trapped in, several others were already coming up with theories. Most of those involved the one european, who wasn't already there.

“I swear, if this is one of the Dane's pranks...” Norway let the unspoken threat hang in the air.

“You don't honestly believe that! This is too much, even for Tanska to pull off.”

Sweden and Iceland remained silent in the argument. Iceland looking resigned, while Sweden's eyes promised another Swedish War, if this turned out to be Denmark's doing.

England had to interrupt the argument, “Finland is right. This is beyond any capability Denmark could possibly have.”

“Yeah, besides, Denmark would never actually do something like this. That is just not her style!” And America of course had to defend his friend's honour.

In the end, any possible continuation of the argument, was suddenly interrupted by a bright flash, signalling the arrival of another nation. Quickly followed by a familiar voice, screaming unfamiliar words.

“Hwat in namōn Wōtanaz!?”

Said nation was of course the Kingdom of Denmark, who materialized mid-air. Where from she promptly fell down screaming, landing head-first.

“Dänemark! Are you alright?” There was Prussia, first on the scene to help his friend.

“Av mit hoved... I am fine Prøjsen. Wait, Prussia!? How did I get here? Where even is here?” Denmark head was hurting and she was very much confused. Not that anyone could blame her, after that fall.

“Ach! We don't know. We were all just transported to this theater. No warning or explanation given! You are the last to have arrived.”

“Yeah, some were even beginning to think that you were responsible.”

“That is ridicolous, America. Norway and England are the ones with magic. If they didn't, then I certainly couldn't do it!”

“That was my argument! By the way, what were those words you said?”

“What words?”

This time, Sweden entered the conversation, “Th' w'rds y'u s'id, wh'n y'u f'll.”

‘Shit! They can't know I speak Urgermansk, the questions would never stop!’ “Oh that must just have been some volapyk, I shouted in my shock. I definately didn't start babbling in panic!”

Her deflection seemed to work, as most of them turned away at her usual display of arrogance. After all, it was a perfectly logical explanation, coming from the personification of Denmark. What she didn't notice, as she stood up and dusted herself off, was that the curious looks of America, Prussia, and Iceland.

“Soo... what are we doing here?” Her question was answered by Finland, bless his kind heart.

“We are no sure, Ta-San. Some of us went of to explore, and they found a bar, a large kitchen, and dozens of rooms, seemingly one for each nation. But they found no exit.”

England continued, “And we also found a movie projector, with several unmarked tapes. But everytime we tried to play one, a voice would tell us: ‘Viewing is not allowed, until everyone are gathered.’”

“Ookayy... So we are trapped in here. And our only possible purpose is disallowed, until we are all here?”

“More or less.”

By then, all those out exploring had returned. Guided by the news that Denmark had finally arrived. And boy, there were a lot of nations there. ‘It doesn't make sense. Why would some random magical person kidnap us, just to have us watch movies?’ What she didn't know, was that her question was about to be answered. And she wouldn't like that answer.

Light suddenly erupted once more. This time staying, rather than dissappearing to reveal a nation. Instead it stayed, only dimming slightly, to reveal several figures standing in it. Three of those figures, Denmark was very familiar with.

‘Mōðér? Faðier?’

“Grandpa Rome!”   
That was the brothers Italy, giving name to one of the figures. It of course did not take long, for the rest of the nations to understand that they were in the presence of the Ancients. This revalation was - predictably - met with gasps and mutterings. Why had they been gathered here? Were the Ancients not supposed to be dead?

Then Rome stepped forth, his features becoming clearer to all, and he started to posture. Denmark just knew that he was about to give a long-winded speech. Thankfully, another figure shoved him aside and started speaking.

“Right! No long speeches today, I am afraid. You have all probably figured out who we are. In case you haven't; We are the Ancients! And yes, we are also dead.

Now, you probably expect us to have gathered you, for some grand purpose? Because, lets face it; If we just wanted to tell you how proud we were, we would have sent you a card from the Beyond!

Instead, we have gathered you in this theater. We have done so because, one of your number suffers!”

The murmurs increased, one of them were suffering? Nations suffered all the time, but the Ancients hadn't gotten involved before. Who could suffer so much, without anyone else noticing?

“Don't worry, their people are fine!” ‘Well that was a relief.’ “It is the personification themself, who suffers in silence!” ‘Who?’

“And none of you have noticed it! Not their friends, not even their family! It is even so bad that many of their family makes it worse, without even realizing it...” At the end, the man grew quiet, and Denmark had a sinking feeling, about who he was talking about.

‘I Am Fine. I may have been through a lot, men jeg har det fint!’

“The reason this is important for you all, is because that pain, if left as is, will only grow. And though the nation in question intends otherwise, it will eventually poison their bonds with others. Through that, untold suffering will be caused in the future. The wounds must be healed!”

Question were abound in the hall. Who is it? Why are they in pain?   
...How can we help?  
The man merely stayed silent, as a woman stepped up to him.

“If it were up to us, we would tell you everything we knew. And then force the nation in question to confess the rest. But it was agreed that you would learn nothing this way. To not only heal the pain, but also mend the bonds? Learning of it is not enough. You must see it.”

‘Nej, nej, Nej! Don't show them, please...’ Denmark knew who they were talking about. After all, who else could it be, when it was those two who spoke?

“You have seen the screen, the projector, and the tapes. Each one will relate to the suffering nation, in some way. Once you have seen them all, and only then, you may leave this building.”

A few protest rose, but quickly died when Rome himself glared them into submission. Denmark was about to raise her own objection, when the two speakers locked eyes with her. For but a moment, nothing else mattered, except for the two people in front of her. ‘Why now? Why did you not help me earlier?’

Finally, Rome got a chance to speak, “Now, I apologize, but time is growing short. Just getting the Powers that Be to agree to this much, took long enough. We have to go now, but know this! We are very proud of you all! Never forget that!”

With that, the light grew in intensity, before dissappearing again. Taking the ancients with it. There was complete silence for a moment, before yelling, shouting, and still more questions filled the hall. Denmark took a deep breath. ‘Fuck mit liv!’ Before she turned to her siblings, plastering on a smile, whose fakeness she desperately hoped they wouldn't notice.

“So, Norge, Sve? Anything either of you want to share?”

‘Lets just pretend that I am nothing, but their happily immature sister.’


	2. When the Pacific Derp Squadron Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately, the first one doesn't seem so bad. Even if a bit embarrassing for a certain nation.

With a fake smile and a knot in her gut, Denmark found her seat. It was actually rather hard to overlook, since it not only had “Danmark” engraved on a brass plate, it also had a Dannebrog draped over it. In fact, all the seats had the flags of their corrosponding nation draped over them. She had of course expected to be seated with her fellow nordics, but she honestly didn't know whether to be happy, or dismayed about her exact seating.

She was seated right in the middle, Norway and Iceland to the left, and Sweden and Finland to the right. It was not lost on her that their seating matched their geographical positions. And while she loved being in the center, she could already tell that her being seated right next to Sweden, could only end in disaster.

Wounds between peoples, heal faster than wounds between family.

Anyhow, she sat in her seat, doing her very best to make herself comfortable, much to the annoyance of Norway and Sweden. But if she has to sit through her entire life being unravelled, even though she desperately prayed she was wrong, she would at the very least be seated comfortably. Not even the love she held for her family, would take that away from her.

“So, Norge! Any thoughts on who it might be?” She asked the quiet nation, dragging him into a side-hug. His face betrayed nothing, but she just knew that he was dissappointed that she had forgotten her tie. ‘Won't get me that easily, this time!’

In the end, he settled for wrestling free from her grip, going to his seat between her and Iceland. She pretended to not notice his glare, she would know if he was serious. She considered doing something embarrassingly sisterly with the others, but Iceland and Finland was out of reach. And she had no desire for another Swedish War. Twelve was quite enough.

Even if the damn brat just got lucky.

——————

By the time they had been seated for five minutes, without anything happening, people understandingly began getting impatient. This annoyance ended up culminating in an argument, as usual.

“Just start the first tape already, America!”

“But they aren't numbered! How am I supposed to know which one is the first? Or just maintain any order? I don't want to play the same tape twice!” America did not enjoy South Italy's criticism. But then again, who did?

England on the other hand, didn't want to deal with this. “God damn it. Estonia, would you please help him?”

With a sigh, the Baltic state rose and joined America at the projector. It took about two more minutes, and a lot of arguing (“No, don't worry about the order, if they're unlabelled.” “Just.. put them all in a pile on the left. We'll put the watched tapes on the right!”), before they were finally ready to begin the viewing.

A hush descended over the theater hall, as the screen finally lit up. 

** -1904 **

** The setting of the tape, most certainly matched the date given. A fine carpet covered the floor, while expertly carved wooden furinture was scattered throughout the room shown. In the corner, there was a metal-enclosed fireplace, already blazing with flames inside. On the other wall, there was a closed window, the wet glass still clearly showing the grey sky outside. It was either autumn, or early winter. Yet all eyes immediately fell on the center of the room, for it was dominated by a large oak table, surrounding by chairs. Many of those were already full. **

** The meeting, for this was most certainly a meeting room, the kind of which England still uses when possible, contained a diverse - if strictly european - selection of nations.- **

The nations present, both on screen and in the theater, widened their eyes. They recognized themselves, and judging by the date, they knew exactly what this meeting was about. A couple of them narrowed their eyes, as if remembering some forgotten slight. Others just sighed, having wished this incident would just stay in the past. But one in particular just burrowed his face in his hands, clearly still embarrassed about what happened that time.

The rest of the nations just wondered, what this could possibly be about. It wasn't until they got a clear look at the seated nations, that they began to realize why this was significant.

** -On one side of the table, was England, France, Germany, Sweden, and Denmark. On the other side, desperately trying to hide his discomfort - or possibly shame - was none other than Russia. The reason for his discomfort was quite clear, as all fice of his counterparts were looking distinctly unimpressed. Or rather, all but France were looking borderline murderous. **

** Russia meanwhile, clearly wanted to be anywhere else. But what else could he wish for, when he was faced with the angry personifications, of three of the great naval powers, and three of the baltic powers. He was already struggling with Japan, these five on top would annihilate him.- **

While some of the nations were starting to clue in, the rest of the europeans and Japan in particular, most of them were still shocked at the amount of pure vitriol, the five nations regarded Russia with. Such anger was usually reserved for nations in active war, or old enemies.

While both England and France had fought Russia before by this point, only Sweden - and possibly France - actually qualified for either of the two causes. Meanwhile, France was the one who looked the least upset on the screen.

** -Eventually, England cleared his throat. “So, in the interest of fairness, I believe that we should all get to state the reasons for our current grievances?” **

** None of the others seemed to object, while Russia just sank further in his seat. Germany then spoke, though it was more of a question. **

** “What order should we go in?” **

** France answered with a sigh, “I believe that the most seriously injured, should go first.” **

** England gave a tight nod at this. “Very well then. Your fleet sunk one of my fishing trawlers, damaged five others, and in doing so, you killed two fishers and injured another six!” **

** Suprisingly, Denmark was next. “Your battleships rammed my colliers! Multiple times!” The anger in her voice carried more than a hint of betrayal. **

** The remaining three then added, how one of the russian ships had fired on three of theirs. Poor aim being the only thing that prevented tragedy. Russia could do naught in the face of the five's rightuous anger, save look down in shame, while cursing the captain of the Kamchatka.- **

In the theater, Russia could not help but mirror his past self's embarrassment. Burying his face deeper in his hands, his sisters' attempt at comforting him being a rather mixed blessing. And the sympathetic looks he got, did not help. Nor did the curious, or even amused looks he got from some other nations. Actually, they made it worse.

The Nordics - save Sweden - as well as Prussia and America, were surprised at the anger Denmark showed back then. While serious, accidentally ramming a few colliers was hardly unforgivable, especially when you had a world class merchant fleet. Besides, hadn't Denmark and Russia been friends, until the Soviet time? Yet any question died in their throats, when they saw the unusually serious look on Denmark's face. Still, she decided to calm down and tried to crack a joke.

“Honestly guys. If this surprises you, then just wait until you hear the next thing I said!” And she immediately realized that it was the wrong thing to say. 

** -After they all had aired their grievances, England suddenly launched into a fullblown rant. The dominant nation of the British Empire venting his anger and frustration at Russia, who could only cower before the smaller blonde. It was such a long rant that even the audience eventually tuned the England on-screen out. Same with the other nations at the table, save France, who occasionally tried to get England to calm down. **

** The screen then shifted focus to Denmark, who now looked less angry and more bored. Her eyes suddenly lit up and looked at the cowering Russia, with what the audience recognized as “evil laughter”, but silent. She quietly leaned towards Sweden, before conspiratorially whispering in his ear.  **

** “You know, Japan is already beating him in the east. And did just send almost all of his Baltic Fleet away...” **

** Sweden narrowed his eyes at his annoying sister, “Wh't 's y'ur po'nt?” **

** The neither Sweden, nor the audience, could honestly tell whether the gleam in Denmark's eyes were playful, or whether they promised painful death. It was a look all those who knew her, in her pre-renaissance days, were uncomfortably familiar with. **

** “That means that if England decides to sink his “2nd Pacific Squadron”, or if I, say, close the sounds. No one could stop us...” **

** “St'p 's fr'm wh't?” Sweden tried to look stern and disapproving, but he couldn't hide his interest. **

** “Well... If you go and liberate a certain someone, I could take care of the Baltics in the meantime...” Oh she almost had him, just a bit more convincing.- **

Denmark could only chuckle weakly, at the mixed looks of shock and disaproval she got from everyone else. Until she suddenly felt a sharp pull at her collar. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself eye to eye with a very unimpressed norwegian.

“Hey, Norge, could you please let go of-“

“Foolish Dane! You should have known better by then, than to joke about declaring war!” Behind him, Iceland, America, and Prussia seemed to share his sentiment. Though at least Prussia seemed sympathetic. “And on Russia! How stupid can you get? Threatening your only friend?”

‘Alright that stung, a lot.’

Russia, meanwhile, was looking at her with shock, and a little bit of betrayal. ‘What did I do to her, to make her hate me? Sweden I get, but Denmark?’ The Baltics just looked at the Nordics, unimpressed. Even if they were used to it, it got tiring being stuck between Russia and Scandinavia.

And Denmark could say nothing to defend herself, without making it even worse. And she just remembered, what she said next would make it worse regardless.

** -“W'll y'ur g'vernm'nt 'gree?” Sweden then asked. **

** Denmark smiled one of her confident smiles. “I can of course convince my government, if you can convince yours?” And the viewers suddenly realized, she hadn't been joking at all. **

** France suddenly interjected in their whispered plotting. “You two cannot seriously be thinking about war! Over a few damaged colliers and a missed shot? I thought Russia was your friend, Denmark?” **

** Sweden just mumbled; “'ne h'ndr'd m'ssed sh'ts...” While Denmark turned to answer the question that France - and the entire audience - had just asked. **

** “We haven't been friends in forty years. Why are you so eager to protect him?” She then immediately turned back to Sweden and asked; “So, what do you say, brother? First to Sankt Petersborg?” **

** France just looked incredolous, before tuning back in to the argument between England and Russia. It seemed Russia had finally started trying to defend himself. And after a few moments of trying to calm England down, it seemed that France had managed to put the belligerent dane out of his mind. **

** Of course, as soon as the frenchman turned away, Germany leaned in and joined the conversation. “What about me? If you're going to fight Russia, you need someone who actually has an army!” **

** If Denmark was annoyed by his interruption, she definately showed it. “Give me back Slesvig, and you can have the rest of Lithuania.” **

** Germany actually seemed to consider it.- **

Now both Denmark and Germany were embarrassed. Of course, everyone knew that Germany had been a different man back then, but to be reminded of his old imperialistic tendencies, was not something he particularly enjoyed. And Denmark? Well, she just looked apologetically at Lithuania, who just looked like she just personally betrayed him.

“Oh I see! Estonia and Latvia are worth fighting for, but I would just have been thrown to the wolves!” The once powerful nation (‘I know how you feel, Lithuania’) let out in outrage.

“Technically, you would have been thrown to the germans.” The joke was weak, but how was she to explain that she valued her old province, more than any noble sentiment, back in those days? ‘To be fair, I still do.’

The “boy” just snorted, before sitting back down, between his siblings and Poland. For what it was worth, Estonia did not look mad at her. That helped, she thought. ‘At least they focus on this, rather than the fact I was actually serious.’

** -Eventually both sides calmed down and began working out an agreement, much to everyone's relief. Even if some of them were slightly disappointed. It was agreed that Russia would compensate the injured parties, and in return, no further retaliation would be sought. Of course, France was relieved that his future ally dodged the Royal Navy, while the rest wanted to milk it for all it was worth. **

** In the middle of the negotiations, Sweden leaned back over and whispered to Denmark; “M' g'vernm'nt w'n't 'gree, 'f 'ngl'nd d'esn't d'cl're w'r 'n h'm.” **

** Denmark only sighed and tried to smile, “Well, it was a long shot anyway... Time to play politics.” Though the under her breath, she started muttering. “Things were much easier, when I could just fight for what I wanted...” **

** Eventually, after the compensation for the british fishers was determined, it was Denmark's turn to negotiate the compensation for her colliers. And as usual - as far as most of the audience was concerned - she failed at the basic concept of being reasonable. **

** “How about you return one of those cruisers, my shipyards built for you?” **

** Russia immediately started spluttering. “You want a cruiser, for a couple of damaged colliers?” **

** “Well, only one of those my shipyards built.” **

** For some reason, even England seemed outraged at this. Appearently, you weren't allowed to ask for military compensation, when the compensator was at war. Though it was obvious that really, no one wanted her to have a warship for free. **

** “Alright then, I guess I will just have monetary compensation then. Payment for the repairs, plus 25%, no less!” **

** After about half an hour, of what was basically haggling, all nations could finally leave the table, satisfied that the matter had been resolved. Yet unknown to everyone - even the audience, save one - Denmark was deliberately the last to leave, visibly thinking over something, before shrugging and exiting the room.- **

Back in the theater, Denmark couldn't help but remember what she felt back them. Disappointment, annoyance, anger, shame, pure frustration, and more had all been frequent emotions she felt back then. And it had been made worse, because it was without a doubt, the loneliest time of her life. Back when everything had gone wrong and she thought her end, and the end of her people, was not very far away.

“You wanted a cruiser?!” Yet it seemed Prussia had other priorities.

“I built large parts of his navy, and he then goes and rams my ships. Of course I wanted one of those ships back!”

Meanwhile, all the other nations were talking amongst themselves. While what they saw had been a suprise, no one on screen seemed to be suffering particularly. Or at least, those who did were known, and that meeting had nothing to do with it. The question on everybody's lips was then;

What was the point of that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, all those incidents actually happened in real life, people just tend to focus on the Dogger Bank Incident.  
> Also in real life, Danish shipyards actually did build a cruiser for the Russian Navy. Though it was sunk in 1905.
> 
> Anyhow, thank you all! I did not expect two kudos' on the first chapter, of my first story. That was certainly motivation!


	3. Cimbri!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite the beginning. But quite close.
> 
> (Or how the personification of the Danish tribe first met Rome)

“So, what do we know?” England had taken it upon himself to “gather evidence” and “compile information”. All in the name of figuring out why they were here. So far, they hadn't come far.

America decided to answer. “Well, we know it isn't Germany, I'm pretty sure we already know his problems.” 

Germany did not hesitate to voice his objections.

“And I'm fairly certain we understand what Russia's problems are.” England continued, while Russia could only blush in embarrassment.

“That leaves Sweden, France, and England... Don't tell me, Iggy! Have you been hiding something from us?”

That - of course - started an argument between America and England. Or rather, America began interogating the british nation, who objected loudly and furiously.

Meanwhile, Denmark, who had been listening, couldn't help but feel insulted - despite herself - that she wasn't even mentioned. ‘I was a great power, less than a century before that! But no, silly Denmark could not possibly have any grievances against life!’ It infuriated her that her own friends couldn't even take her seriously. Even more than, when people assume she and Sweden are twins.

Speaking of Sweden, she was currently standing with her fellow Nordics, “discussing” the video. Though to be honest, she was mostly trying to get Norway to stop glaring at her.

“What were you thinking, Danmark? Fighting Russia!?” It wasn't working very well.

“Come on, Norge! I wasn't going to fight him alone! Besides, it was literally the perfect time, and I needed a victory!”

“Wh'n w'll y'u l'arn fr'm y'ur m'st'kes?” Where it any other nordic who said that, it would have been a slap in the face. From Sweden? It was just plain insulting.

“Oh excuse me, mister ‘my king made the most stupid decision in nordic history and I just got lucky!’ As I recall, you were very interested in my proposal.” Denmark did not care for the strategic opinion, of someone who thought marching an army over a frozen sea was a good idea. ‘Even if it worked, it still doesn't mean it wasn't extremely stupid.’

Fortunately, any argument was stopped when Estonia dragged America back to the projector. Seemed that the break had gone on long enough. But as Denmark sat back down, she couldn't help but wish that she could sit besides someone, other than Norway and Sweden. She loves her brothers, but sometimes it feels like they don't take her seriously. What she wouldn't give to have her children with her, she thought. 

Though as the screen lit up, she realized that their absence was a good thing. The only thing that horrified her more than her brothers learning her secrets, was the thought of those few she had left, seeing her darkest moments. She was the Queen of the North, rightful and true leader of the Nordics. She couldn't bare the thought of them pitying her. Not them, never them.

And despite knowing better, she desperately prayed that the next video would give away just as little as the first. As long as it took before everyone realized the truth, the better. 

** -The scene opened to a large south-european plain. Somewhere in Southern France or Italy. Eventually, a date and a name appeared on the screen. **

** Vercellae, 101 BC.- **

The nations were shocked. 101 bc? Who, apart from China, had even been alive that long ago?

North Italy meanwhile gasped, for he knew where they were. Rome had told him much about the first time the Romans met the Germanics. He had also told him how it ended. But what did it have to do with one of their current number? None of the living European Nations had been alive that long ago, surely?

‘Oh, this battle’ Denmark meanwhile, had a good idea why this was relevant.

** -The view moved, shifting its focus from the beautiful plains, down towards a large Roman army. Some 50,000 men, the audience estimated. Those knowledgable on such matters, could see that their equipment matched the year given. Vest-like mail shirts, bronze helmets, pila, gladii, and squared scutumn. Late Republic, Marian Reforms armament. The legionaries were perfectly disciplined in formation, impressing even the likes of England, Prussia, and Sweden. **

** Then the view shifted again, now showing another even larger army. This one was definately more than 100,000. Compared to the orderly romans, this force seemed more like a horde, massive and disorganized. But as they came closer, it could be seen that there was in fact method to the madness. **

** The warriors were far from uniformly equipped. Only one in ten, at most, were wearing mail, the rest being left with their beautifully coloured woolen clothes. In front of the infantry, there was a large vanguard of cavalry, some 15,000 strong. The infantry itself, looked like little more than a disorderly mass. At least at first glance. Those nations more accustomed to war, at least as it was before gunpowder, soon saw that it was more of an ordered chaos. **

** All those clad in mail were in the front and center, while the rest were behind and at the sides. Their flanks were composed of javelinmen, slingers, and archers. It was no professional army, nor were it very impressive, but it was certainly not a mindless rabble either. **

** The view moved further, right past the obvious gathering of leaders, between the infantry and cavalry, until it eventually settled on another group. This one was smaller, less than a dozen in total, all riding a bit behind the army. Out of the way, out of the mind of the warriors. Just what most nations preferred to do.- **

That group was composed entirely of nations, there was no question about it. All nations present in the theater, got the exact same feeling from those on the screen, as when in the presence of another nation. Unfortunately - but expectedly - they didn't recognize any of the nations present. Well, they thought they didn't, because almost half of them were wearing some kind of face protection. But those whose faces were uncovered, they certainly didn't recognize.

Which meant that they were watching some of the lesser known ancients. Those petty kingdoms and major tribes, who are so often forgotten in favour of the great empires, or the overarching cultures. Which meant, all the germanic nations suddenly realized, those were the siblings they never met.

Well, all except one.

“Wait, they don't look celtic!” France suddenly called out, drawing everyones attention to him. Particularly, several germanic nations almost gave themselves whiplash.

“Why would they look celtic?” Prussia asked, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Because they were? They had celtic names, they spoke celtic, so they clearly were celts.” France was very certain of this, and was either unaware, or uncaring, of how much he just pissed of every single germanic nation.

“They came from Germania! Obviously, they took on a lot of celtic warriors, and the romans got their names wrong! I mean, Rome could barely tell the difference between a celt and a thracian, at the best of times!” 

“Hey! Don't talk about Rome like that! You didn't even know him!” North and South Italy would not take insult against their grandfather.

That started a major shouting match, with almost every germanic and celtic nation - as well as the italians - shouting and screaming at eachother, poor England and Belgium (who were both germanic and celtic) stuck in the middle. Only the nordics stayed out of the argument. Thankfully the film had paused, meaning that no one missed anything.

Eventually, Denmark had enough of the arguing.

“STILLE!”

And she had everyones attention. “Now, I know you all have your own ideas and theories, but really, you should consult an expert, before screaming them to the world. As it is, I happen to be said expert, and therefore I now tell you that both the Cimbrians, Teutones, and Ambrones were germanic.”

“And how do you know that?” Scotland asked

Denmark felt a slight eye-twitch, realizing that they were all sceptical of a claim, made by the “least serious Nordic”.

“Because the Cimbrians came from Northern Jutland, the Teutones came from the North-Jutish Island, and the Ambrones were from the northern half of the Wadden Sea! There is both archeological and literary evidence of this.”

“Danmark, a cauldron is not difinitive evidence.” Norway decided to use this moment to speak.

“Did you forget the literary part? Also, Norge, you're supposed to be on my side!” Denmark, on the other hand, did not apreciate this “betrayal”.

“Enough! Let's just continue watching. I am sure that we will find out in the video.” Estonia interrupted, having grown tired of the bickering. And so the video started again. 

** -The ancient nations were arranged in a semi-circle, around one individual in the middle. As if they were holding a last minute council. There were ten in all, all clad in mail or scale and wearing bronze helmets. As noticed earlier; four of them wore facial protection, either in the form of metal masks or mail coverings. They carried swords at their sides, most of which were of the old germanic style single-edged knife-swords, but three of them also carried celtic twin-edged blades. All in all, they made an impressive sight, especially for the time. **

** One of the circling nations then adressed the one in the center. “Cimbri, are you sure this is a good idea? The romans have already defeated Teutone and Ambrone, perhaps we shouldn't fight them on their own terms?” **

** One of the others quickly leapt to - the now identified - Cimbri's defence. “What? You want us to let them get away, with what they did to Ambrone's and Teutone's people? We need to defeat them now! Or they will just grow stronger, and then we won't stand a chance.” **

** There was some muttering amongst the others, at this. Some clearly supported the second speaker, while others were leaning towards the first. Eventually, Cimbria himself raised his voice, and the rest fell silent. **

** “I assure you all, this was not a decision made without thought. But neither was it decision wanted, neither by me, nor my leaders. The romans refused our terms without thought. They paraded the kings of Þeuth and Amrumāz before us, our brothers' people! While I may have wished for another result, this is the path my leaders have decided on. And I am not inclined to stop them.” **

** The audience could feel the collective fury of the nations, whose identity were now confirmed as germanic. Their language, though thankfully translated to english, could be naught but a proto-germanic dialect. Only Cimbria himself showed signs, of what seemed to be an acquired accent. **

** Then, another nation stepped forth. This one, while wearing mail over their face, was most likely female, judging from body figure. It seemed only Cimbria and a handful of others appreciated her presence, for she was quickly meet by jeers. **

** “Oh look, the bastard wants to talk!” **

** “A trader-girl, like you, has no buisness in a war-council!” **

** “Go back to your boats and reindeer!” **

** “I thought her mother was the one with reindeer?” **

** “No, her mother might as well be a deer.” **

** “Nah, our father has better taste than that.” **

** “True that. But still, what was he thinking, letting a whore-child like her flourish?” **

** The nation in question clenched her hands, her back visibly forced straight as her ‘brothers’ hurled insult at her. Cimbri, and the few who weren't abusing her, did not attempt to hide their anger nearly as well. In fact, at least one looked ready to draw sword at that very moment.- **

The nations could not help but feel a wave of anger. ‘How dare they insult abuse their own sister like that?’ Despite themselves, most of the of the germanics felt rather happy that those particular ancients had long faded. A sentiment that everyone could, if not get behind, then at least understand.

Denmark meanwhile, did not feel the shame she sometimes had felt. Only a deep fury that she desperately tried to hide. But underneath that, she also felt anguish and grief. ‘Why did they hate me so much?’

** -“Enough! One more word against our sister, and I shall personally rip you limb from limb!” Cimbri had finally had enough of the disrespect, and he did not hide it. **

** “And I will tie you to a boat and drown you in the Rhine.” Another nation growled in agreement. **

** That shut the rest up, and the female nation nodded at her defenders. She then turned to Cimbri and spoke. **

** “Cimbri, my brother. I swore to help you, alongside what warriors my chieftains sent you, but the others have a point. Why fight now? When the romans have choosen the field themselves? I do not argue that they shouldn't be fought. But I believe that it would be wiser to leave this field, and fight them somewhere else. Someplace of our choice.”- **

The audience was completely silent. ‘That voice!’ Was the thought running through everyones heads. They were all certain that they knew it, but they just couldn't put their finger on it. The accent threw them off. None of them had ever heard a native proto-germanic speaker before, so they didn't know what was accent, and what was her natural voice.

Denmark, meanwhile, was extremely relieved that the age difference, as well as the different language, was enough to disguise her voice. She was however unaware that her fellow nordics were eyeing her. They all knew her, and the female nation onscreen sounded suspiciously like their immature sister.

** -Cimbri was visibly considering her words, but in the end he shook his head. “I'm afraid that it is too late for that, dear sister. The armies are in formation, within sight of eachother. My leaders will think it cowardice to leave now.” **

** His sister nodded, her helm and mail disguising all other emotions. “Very well, Cimbri. The leaves of 1000 of my greatest warriors, as well as half of your people, rest in the hands of your kings.” **

** With that, she stepped back. And the screen faded.- **

Muttering began again. ‘Seriously, what did that have to with anything?’ Watching the ancient past was cool and all, but what did it have to do with the suffering of one of their current number?

Denmark herself paled when she noticed all her brothers, as well as America, Prussia, and Canada unexpectedly looking at her. Norway specifically, seemed on the verge of asking a very important question, when salvation came.

“Wait! The tape isn't done yet!” Estonia called out. And true enough, the fading was only a transition. 

** -The new segment started up on the female germanic. And if the previous part had been the calm before the storm, then this was the storm at its peak. She was making her way through a mass of people, shouts and scream failing to drown the sound of metal on metal. Her clothes and armour were worn, a few locks of golden hair had escaped her helmet, and her sword was scratched, chipped, and stained with blood.- **

Many nations got flashbacks, to some of the worse pre-industrudial battles they had fought. They could practically smell the mud and blood.

** -She forced her way past a group of warriors, a mix of germanics and celts, by their look, desperately looking for something or someone. Eventually her head perked up and she changed direction, her movements having gained new purpose. It was not long until it could be seen, who she had found. It was the unnamed nation, who had threatened to drown the others. **

** “ Frīs! Frīs!”  She shouted out, grabbing - the now named - Frisii's attention. **

** The Frisian Nation did not hesitate to head towards her. Forcing his way through the crowd, while calling out to her. Yet the audience had trouble hearing what he was saying, over the loud din of battle.- **

** The Netherlands tensed, drawing the concern of Belgium and Luxembourg, while Germany perked up. This was the predecessor of the West- and North Frisian people, whom were divided amongst them and Denmark. This realization evoked mixed feelings in them both. **

** -The two eventually made it to eachother, one helping to stabilize the other.  **

** “Fris! Our horsemen have been overrun! Where is Cimbri and the others?” She asked, panting from exhaustion. **

** “Last I saw, they were at the front. The fight there is going badly too! We just cannot break their formation...” Frisii trailed off at the last part, hopelessness seeming to take him. **

** “We can not outfight them and we are being hemmed in. We need to find the kings, and get them to call a retreat!” She, on the other hand, tried her best to remain calm. **

** Yet there would be no time for an orderly retreat, it would soon become apparent. Within a few moments of their short conversation, part of the front broke. Within seconds, panic was spreading throughout the army, and 100,000 men were suddenly running for their lives. The two nations being helplessly dragged along.  **

** Eventually, the pair managed to get themselves free. Dragging eachother out of the mass of people. As they looked around, they could see that the entire army was routing, all running head over heels back to the camp.- **

The nations were quite frankly in awe. The “camp” had taken the form of and enormous wagon-fort, easily able to hold four times as many people, as were in the fighting army. Even by modern standards, it was impressive. Knowing it was done by the ancient germanics, it left the more technically minded among the, breathless.

“That, is more impressive than I ever imagined. Not even in my wildest dreams.” Prussia in particular was struck.

Denmark couldn't help a slight feeling of smugness. ‘Whoever said that we didn't know a few tricks, even back then?’ 

However that feeling soon died, when she remembered what had happened next.

Besides her, Iceland leaned over towards Norway. 

“The video is effecting her a lot, isn't it?” He asked, receiving a quiet nod from Norway.

“We'll ask her when it's done.”

** -In a display of horsemanship, only possible for a magical being, she quickly let out two high-pitched whistles, promptly attracting two horses. They were fine beasts, not impressive by modern standards, but world class compared to the roman steeds. They approached without fear, and did not object when the two nations got on their backs. **

** With but a word - that the audience found to be quite unpronounciable - they were off. At speed, they headed towards the camp, quickly overtaking the warriors fleeing on foot. The rather small horses were capable of a rather high speed, and their riders were no slouches. Especially considering that they had no saddles. **

** By the time they arrived, less than two minutes after setting off, they were both visibly joyed to see that most of the surviving horsemen had rallied at the camp. Without ever stepping off their mounts, they then turned to eachother. **

** “The army won't be able to retreat further, the wagons are in the way!” She spoke, urgency lacing her words. **

** “Then we need to get them moving, but where?” **

** She looked straight at him. “North. We need to put as much distance as possible, between the romans and cimbrians.” **

** “I suppose the war is lost, then?” His voice was resigned at this point, and the audience felt for them. To come so far, only to have it all crash and burn, was a feeling they were all familiar with.- **

North Italy felt like he was going to be sick. Rome had told both him and his brother, what Marius had done after the battle. He did not want to see tens of thousands of women and children as slaves.

Thankfully, the small Italian soon felt hand in his shoulder. He looked up, to see Germany trying his best to look comforting. Though he knew just what the serious nation was thinking. ‘Never again...’

** -“It was lost, the moment I didn't listen to you.” A voice suddenly joined them, causing them to whip their heads around. **

** There he was. Cimbri, in all his wounded glory, riding towards them on his own horse. **

** “Rome himself is with them. I should never have agreed to fight on this field...” **

** His voice was broken and full of despair. There came a man, who just realized that he had walked to his own doom, and taken his people with him. **

** She just shook her head. “Maybe, but not all is lost. We can still save your people!” **

** “And where would we go?” **

** “Home! Cimbri. Lead them back to Cimberlānd.” **

** “Home? But we will starve there! There was a reason we left in the first place!” He went in full denial, unwilling to accept such a bitter truth. **

** Frisii, however, had enough. “You can take the risk there, or you will all die here! Either way, decide, for the romans are approaching.” **

** That made Cimbri sober back up. Sure enough, the roman cavalry was drawing near, looking the encircle them. **

** “Very well. You two get the wagons moving. I will rally my warriors and hold them off.” **

** “Not in your state!” She protested that decision loudly. “Your people are on the brink. You're already wounded. Rome will kill you!” **

** “I have to protect my people!” **

** “No! You need to save your people!” She answered his protest, the argument almost childish, were it not for the situation.  **

** “Go and get the women and children moving. Fris and I will hold the romans off.” **

** The last part was said softly, a far cry from how she had spoken so far. And Cimbri merely nodded, slowly taking off for the camp.  **

** “Brother, sister, I'm sorry for leading your warriors here...” And he left. **

** The two remaining germanics looked at eachother, Frisii soon taking charge. **

** “Most of your warriors were mounted, right?” He asked, receiving a nod. “Then go, take the horsemen and hold off the roman cavalry. I will rally as many warriors as I can, and buy time for Cimbri.” **

** She nodded, before turning to leave. But not before getting a last word in. **

** “Good luck, Fris. I will see you at the Rhine, if not sooner!”  **

** And they were both off. As she rode, she could hear him give a mighty cry; “Hailaz Wotanaz!” As he rode towards the fleeing army. And when she neared the germanic horsemen, and saw that many of them perked at her presence, she shouted a cry of her own. **

** “Hailaz Tiwaz!” **

** And the answer almost deafened the audience. **

** “HAILAZ TIWAZ!”- **

Denmark had to restrain herself, drawing many odd looks from those around her. ‘More than 2000 years later that warcry still gets me.’

** -With a wave of her sword to the horsemen, she charged forth, more than 5000 warriors behind her. They went straight for the roman cavalry. And, for the second time that day, romans and germanics clashed on horseback.- **

The audience, those who were not used to such things, were then treated to a firsthand sight, of what a large cavalry clash looks like. Even those many, who had fought with cavalry before, still learned something new; Since neither side used stirrups, or even advanced saddles.

Poland and Lithuania were reminded of the old days. Back when they were the european terrors and horseback.

Similarly, Hungary remembered her childhood, among the fierce hungarian nomads.

Sweden and Finland also remembered all the battles, where their cavalry had dominated. And the battles were they had been dominated by cavalry. Prussia, and the rest of the medieval nations, thougt the same.

Denmark, on the other hand, had no reaction. This had not been the important part of the battle. At least not for her, personally. That came later.

** -In the midst of the fighting, she soon found a new opponent. His features were stereotypically roman, except for his above average height. But what really set him apart, was his clothing. He looked like a great general, almost like a god amongst men, with silver cuirass and red cape. Yet that was not what she focused on. No, her attention was drawn to how he felt. And she knew at that moment, that she was facing Rome himself.- **

Everyone were at the edge of their seats. A life or death fight amongst nations, was no ordinary thing. And against Rome himself? The video had the audience's undivided attention. North Italy even had to restrain his urge to cheer.

** -“You are no Cimbrian.” His voice was smooth, not giving away anything, save some slight curiosity. **

** “And you're definately Roman!” Her voice, on the other, was filled with a genuine eagerness. But also a savage intent. The Nordics recognized it as the tone Denmark used in the past, whenever she was about to do something “retalliatory”. **

** With a cry, she charged towards him, Rome responding in kind. The first pass yielding nothing, as their swords slid over their armour, and they both managed to remain seated. On the second pass, however, Rome managed to unhorse her. But not before her sword found its way, to the head of his own horse. Meaning that both of them crashed unellegantly to the ground. **

** Yet it was not a moment before they were both up, charging eachother on foot. They went at eachother with the fury of two wild wolves. Hacking, stabbing, and grabbling at eachother. She managed to strike him once, with her shield, but he parried her follow-up. When she tried to bash him again, he grapped unto the shield, and wrenched it out of her hand. He then broke it over her own head, before going in for the kill. **

** Yet she recovered quickly, sidestepping and grabbling his sword arm. As she tried to stab her knife-sword into his side, he then grabbed unto her sword arm, turning the fight into an armed wrestling match. They struggled fiercely, each trying to bring their blades to the unarmoured parts of their opponents, while also keeping the other's blade away. Remarkably, she managed to force her opponent on the back foot, using brute strength alone. Yet Rome would not be defeated that simply.- **

The Italians were in awe. Someone was actually managing to go toe to toe with Rome himself. Of course, Rome's strength had not been single combat, but it was still an impressive feat, worthy of a greater nation.

The Nordics, on the other hand, were not suprised. Rome may have been powerful and skilled, but she - if she was who they thought she was - was never someone you ‘just beat up’.

Sweden had to train and prepare for over a century. And even then, he - admittedly - got rather lucky.

** -He tried to headbutt her, but she leaned her head back. He then let go of her sword arm - after making sure the tip was pointed away from him - and punched her in the face before she could react. Her mail covered face. **

** Predictably, they both immediately reeled back. He, clutching his badly scraped knuckles, while she clutched her face, while falling backwards. They both began cursing up a storm, causing no few chuckles in the audience. But eventually, Rome recovered first, going after her while she still clutched her face. **

** Yet before he could strike, she suddenly tore off her helmet and, in one fluid motion, hurled it at him. Upon suddenly being hit by almost two kilos of bronze and iron, he staggered back, allowing her to get on her feet again. She readied her sword again, and they stood facing eachother once more. Her golden hair now moving freely in the wind.- **

Denmark went completely still, having forgotten entirely about this part. ‘They will see!’ Was the thought running through her mind.

The rest of the nations were also beginning to put two and two together. That hair was fairly distinct. And considering her known origins, as well as the knowledge she had displayed earlier, the more ‘intelligent’ countries were fairly certain they knew who she were. All they needed was a good look at her face.

** -When they clashed yet again, this time without grabbling, Rome proved the superior swordsman. In but a few moments, he had her almost disarmed. Yet before he could finish it, she willingly threw her sword, and instead grabbed on to his shoulders. Then, with a truly impressive level of strength for her size, she threw him down to the ground. **

** Before he knew what had happened, she had thrown herself on top of him. Drawing a small axe from her belt, she struck at him many times. Each strike filled with an ungodly rage. Yet each strike also growing weaker and weaker, as her body succumbed to exhaustion. Rome meanwhile, was still shielding himself, while actively trying to beat her off. A task that would eventually be done for him. **

** Suddenly, a pila hurled through the air, burying itself in her shoulder. Her attention immediately shifted to the offending legionaire. Yet she did not have the strength left, and almost fell down when she stood up too quickly. Fortunately, a pair of arms grabbed her and started dragging her away.  **

** “Looks like it will be before.” Frisii had come back to get her, dragging her back up on her horse. **

** And as her dazed eyes fell upon the plain, the audience got a clear look at the battle's aftermath. The army was being butchered. Large parts of the camp was overrun, yet she could she another large part heading north, while a smaller group went east. Neither of which were followed. Her and Frissi's efforts had not been completely in vain. Yet rage still gribbed her heart, lending her new energy. **

** She turned back to Rome - finally showing a gasping audience her full face -, who was looking over his wounds as the legionaire helped him up. And she cried out at him. **

** “When you get back to your city! And all your slaves ask you; who gave you those wounds!? Tell them that you fought Métza Þeudiskazduhter! Tell them that you were beaten by the great Danduti herself!”  **

** And she then turned and urged her horse into a gallop, riding towards the northern host, alongside Frisii. Tears were streaming down her face. Her face that looked very much like a mix between Denmark and Iceland. As in; Denmark's face, but only one or two years physically older than Iceland.- **

There was complete silence, as every single occupant in the theater turned towards Denmark. The woman in question, desperately trying to sink into the floor, while she his her face. All of her confidence and self-assuredness gone, in the face of the questioning - and even accusing - looks of everyone she knew. 

“Christ, just how old are you?” She heard America ask, causing her to further curl in on herself. Her siblings desperately trying to coax her back out.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Norway managed to make her look up again. Everyone where still staring at her. Untill England coughed, drawing everyonces attention, before he asked the million kroner question.

“So Denmark. Mind explaining how a nation that was supposed to have formed in the late 8th century - at the earliest - was somehow alive and mature, more than 100 years BC?”

‘Is it too late to curl back up?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, speculation and headcanon. 
> 
> Still, the Cimbrian War was a real thing. When a bunch of “proto-jutes” went and beat up the Roman Republic. (If anyone says that they were celts, then we are not friends).
> 
> You all are of course free to ask questions, or suggest a theme for a future chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first story on this site. And the first time I write anything Hetalia related.  
> Basically, the nations will watch through many episodes of Denmark's life, or of those who shaped her life. There will be no set order of these viewings.  
> From 1807 onwards, things will turn increasingly towards alternate history. This is because I realized early in the idea-phase that the trauma-train would, by this point, become all consuming. Don't worry, there will be no “Great-Power Denmark!”  
> Everything before 1807, I will try to keep historical. Though bear in mind, pretty much anything early- to pre-viking age will be speculation/head-canon.


End file.
